


The Incident

by EclecticRegard



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Daryl Dixon, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Spanking, Top Rick Grimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticRegard/pseuds/EclecticRegard
Summary: The hunter was absolutely bewildering. Rick thought he had gotten him figured out by this point. But now, here they were in their kitchen and Daryl was mad he wasn't being spanked. That was decidedly more bizarre than anything they had ever encountered during the apocalypse. Every walker he'd taken down, every half-crazed survivor he'd come across could never have prepared him mentally for the scenario unfolding before his very eyes. And Daryl just stood there, arms crossed and a petulant scowl playing at his lips.





	The Incident

It happened on accident, roughly four months after the cure was found. 

 

They had been busy with their waves of suspicion at the cure itself, never mind with finding and establishing a home. Getting settled in a town was strange; sure, they had temporarily settled in at other places, but that was nothing like finding a _house_ to call home. Rather than checking for walkers or taking the first sturdy-looking place, they were on the lookout for a three-bedroom home - one for Judy, one for Carl, and one for them - and the fact that they could afford the time to be picky about it was all too strange to deal with for the first couple of weeks of the end of the end of the world. When they had agreed on a place that checked off all the requirements on their list (fenced in backyard for the kids to safely play, potential for a garden in the front yard, all doors and windows intact), the Dixon-Grimes clan had moved in and set to picking up some semblance of their previous lives. Rick helped set up the town police department, the kids began attending the - albeit small - school once it was established, and Daryl stuck to helping out Rick and the people in their developing town. He took it upon himself to repair anything that needed repairs as best he could, seeing as how there wasn't exactly a plethora handymen at their disposal and, when that wasn't needed on any given day, he was all but plastered to Rick's side, refusing to take on an official title, much to Rick's amusement, but still insisting on being involved.

 

"The Incident," as Rick had first called it, occurred one evening when the kids were spending the night on Maggie and Glenn's new farm. They spent half the night waiting for a call to their house phone, which was laughably old with a curled phone cord, telling them that something was wrong and they were needed on the farm. Every time they would halfway work themselves up into a frustrated, worried frenzy, they would have to remind each other that the walkers were gone, that it was okay, that the kids were _safe._ "Safe" was still a relative term as far as Daryl was concerned, but it calmed him down considerably anyways.

 

Without television or even radio entertainment, the men were left to occupy each other's attention throughout and after dinner. They sat at the kitchen table, eating the breakfast-for-dinner Rick made ("Because I _can_ , Daryl, that's why") and simply enjoyed the other's company. They briefly discussed how things were going with the admittedly tiny police department and the repairs Daryl had made to the farm after dropping off Carl and Judy and, later, chuckled at how strange their normalized life had become. Soon they cleaned the kitchen in companionable silence, their sides pressed flush against one another as Rick washed and Daryl dried the dishes. Daryl grumbled at first, as was his way, that Rick was making it difficult to work, but he made no attempt to move away, so Rick stayed put. Once they had finished, Daryl handed the towel to Rick so that he could dry his hands while Daryl put the clean dishes in the cupboards. 

 

Daryl bent down to place some pans and lids in a lower cabinet and Rick leaned back to unabashedly admire the view the position presented to him. It _was_  a nice ass, after all, and Rick had spent many hours worshiping the hell out of it. The curve of it fit well in his dark jeans, courtesy of finally being able to find clothes that were their true sizes, which stretched almost sinfully over his posterior. Rick took a step forward, hand stretched out to caress. Daryl snorted then, as though he could tell on instinct alone what Rick was about to do.

 

"Ain't gonna let me finish any chores, are ya? Kids 're barely out of the house three hours an' already you're ready to take advantage of it." Daryl's gravelly voice was definitely tinted with obvious amusement and a small swell of pride that Rick, of all people, was still just as into him as he had been when they first started their relationship years ago.

 

"Keep talkin' like that and I won't reward you," Rick shot back, his own light tone carrying the barest edge of arousal.

 

"So you'll punish me instead?" Daryl chuckled, still bent over. He had clearly finished putting away the pans and was curiously awaiting Rick's next move.

 

Quick as a bolt of lightning, Rick's hand swung forward and landed right on Daryl's sit spot, the resulting slap punctuating the air as both men fell still and silent for several beats.

 

Had that been the wrong move? Rick's heart began to race. They had done so well for months, without any snafus that would bring up painful memories of the past to the surface for either the former leader or hunter. Had he messed it all up in the home they shared, the one place they both should feel safe and free of any ill memories? He'd never tried to smack Daryl, not even jokingly, before and the way that Daryl's entire body had stiffened at the slap had Rick fearing the worst, that that simple gesture had brought up a memory similar to the reason for all the scars riddling the other man's back. 

 

Just as Rick opened his mouth to apologize, Daryl grunted in annoyance. "Well? That all?"

 

Rick's mind came screeching to a halt. Clearly, he had misheard his partner. "Excuse me - _what_?"

 

Daryl threw a glare over his shoulder before standing up straight and turning around to face him. "Well, it ain't ideal for me t' be bent over inside the cupboard, but I figured you'd finish what ya started."

 

Was that disappointment laced in with irritation that he heard? Rick licked his lips, trying to find his words. "You didn't... dislike it?" He still wasn't sure if he hadn't misunderstood.

 

"Hell no," Daryl shot back. He narrowed his eyes, searching Rick's face for something of an answer to an unasked question. Finally, his eyebrows shot up as though he understood. "Ya never spanked nobody 'fore the world went tits up? Figured a controllin' guy like you would love it."

 

"What, like you have?"

 

"Ain't much fun havin' to do all the work when I could just present my ass and reap the rewards," he replied with a smirk. He stepped closer, right into Rick's space, and leaned in so that their lips met in a chaste kiss. "'sides, you like all that hard work, don't ya?" A hand was suddenly cupping and gently applying pressure to Rick's increasingly interested cock through his pants. Daryl licked the other man's bottom lip before sucking at it gently. "Do ya wanna spank me, Rick? 'Cause I think that'd be a nice way t' spend our night alone together. Don't you?"

 

Rick groaned softly; both Daryl's actions and words felt too good for him to want to stop for anything. However, when he didn't get a response, Daryl pulled away altogether, going so far as to take a step back to make it clear he was finished for the time being.

 

It was Rick's turn to grunt in annoyance. "What the hell, Daryl? You get me all worked up and then stop?"

 

" _You_ got _me_ worked up first!" he accused, crossing his arms over his chest, his hands tucked tight under his armpits. "Sucks, don't it?"

 

Worked up? Rick's brow furrowed in confusion. When had he done that? Unless Daryl was referring to--

 

"You mean when I barely swatted you?"

 

"Yeah! Kinda shitty, don'tcha think?"

 

The hunter was absolutely bewildering. Rick thought he had gotten him figured out by this point. But now, here they were in their kitchen and Daryl was mad he  _wasn't_ being spanked. That was decidedly more bizarre than anything they had ever encountered during the apocalypse. Every walker he'd taken down, every half-crazed survivor he'd come across could never have prepared him mentally for the scenario unfolding before his very eyes. And Daryl just stood there, arms crossed and a petulant scowl playing at his lips.

 

"This doesn't, I mean, you're not-- upset?" he finally managed, searching the hunter's face for any sign of betrayal against what he was going to reply.

 

The man's scowl softened a fraction, finally catching on to the reason behind Rick's surprise and hesitation. "Ya ain't my pa, Rick," he said softly. Rick winced at the blatancy of his words, even as he appreciated the other man getting right to the point. Daryl continued, "You'll stop if I say so." The question of "won't you," although left unasked, received a fervid nod in response from Rick. "There we go then."

 

Rick finally moved from where he'd felt frozen for an eternity. He stepped close and cupped Daryl's face in his hands. "My perfect darlin'," he said fondly, punctuating each word with a gentle kiss that brought a hue of red to the other man's cheeks. 

 

He walked around Daryl and yanked a chair out from under the table, setting it right in the open middle of the room. At Daryl's grunt of approval, Rick sat down in the chair and spread his legs enough so that Daryl would be well supported. He crooked a finger at the hunter, who stepped up to his right side and waited to see what Rick's next instructions would be.

 

Rick's demeanor changed, shifting into the scene of the moment as he took on a demanding tone. "Well? Take 'em off. Wouldn't be much of a punishment for your sassy mouth otherwise."

 

A shudder ran through Daryl's body as he began undoing his jeans, fingers fumbling slightly as he met the other man's expectant gaze. Finally, he pushed his pants down mid-thigh and licked his lips in hungry anticipation.

 

"Daryl? Off means _off_."

 

He gripped the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down, along with his jeans, all the way to his ankles. He'd barely straightened back up before Rick had grasped his wrist and was guiding him down carefully across his lap. He grunted and shifted himself around so that he was comfortably splayed, his toes barely touching the ground and a hand already holding onto Rick's pants leg for dear life.

 

Daryl started when a hand came to rest on the swell of his ass, causing his own growing erection to twitch with interest of the promised punishment. However, Rick seemed to be much more interested in petting and, very quickly, Daryl grew impatient. "Ya gonna actually do anything or is this a waste of my--" 

 

Rick's hand suddenly struck, right in the same spot his earlier, more playful one had landed. The unexpected gesture knocked the breath out of Daryl, who sucked it back in with a string of muttered complaints about his not being ready and what a jerk Rick was. It earned him three more swats, fast and hard on both cheeks and then in the middle. 

 

"That mouth is what got you into trouble in the first place," Rick said casually, as though they were discussing what to make for dinner tomorrow. When Daryl kicked a leg in protest, Rick snorted humorlessly. "Gonna be a long night for you, darlin', isn't it?"

 

The hunter didn't respond that time, other than to clench his jaw, a gesture reserved just for himself. If Rick wanted him to be difficult, he'd be difficult.

 

Rick's hand began spanking him again, keeping up a decent, seemingly unending rhythm. He'd work one cheek and then the other. Daryl managed to keep his reactions rather contained until Rick started spanking his upper thighs, right where they met his ass. He squirmed then and groaned quietly, his grip tightening on the other man's pants leg. The squirming brought friction to his cock, now fully erect against Rick's thigh. Daryl groaned louder at that and tried to squirm some more, almost attempting to hump the lap beneath him. Rick placed a hand on the man's back to still him, his other hand not once losing pace, so that all Daryl could do was accept what friction he received whenever he was pressed forward with each punishing swat.

 

Rick's own erection had begun pressing up against his pants, so hard now that it was incredibly uncomfortable to still be clothed. He felt a wave of arousal crash down with each guttural moan and groan he elicited from the man across his lap; the fact that Daryl's body was rubbing against him didn't alleviate his situation at all, either. The pinkened skin was blossoming red all over and it felt increasingly warm against his hand. He wasn't sure how long he - let alone Daryl, with those sinful noises coming from his mouth or his cock leaking all over the side of Rick's pants leg - could keep this up before the need for release was almost too much to bear. 

 

"Rick," Daryl grunted, yanking the other man out of his thoughts. 

 

The former leader stopped immediately, stilling his hand and laying it to rest atop the punished flesh. "What d'ya need, darlin'?" he asked, voice thick with arousal. 

 

Daryl swallowed thickly, audibly, in an attempt to find his voice again. It was so much easier when Rick assumed sometimes; Daryl wasn't required to talk much then. "N-Need..."

 

Rick's hand began squeezing the warmed skin, encouraging the other man to take his time and ask for exactly what he wanted. Daryl shifted slightly under the attention, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he relaxed further into contentment. After a few calm moments, Daryl licked his lips and tried again to speak. "Goddammit, Rick, I need you," he groused, grinding against the other man's thigh. Rick's hand stilled at the confession, but he didn't appear to react otherwise, so Daryl kept going. "Need you so bad, okay? Gotta feel you inside me. Fuck, man, you're killin' me!"

 

A hand suddenly curled into Daryl's hair and gripped tight, yanking his head back as Rick bent down to nip at the shell of his ear. Daryl whimpered at that; Rick was pulling out _all_ the stops tonight, wasn't he? 

 

"Go to our room then. I want you on your hands and knees at the edge of the bed, y'hear?" When the hunter nodded to signal his understanding, Rick let go of his hair and helped him stand on his own, shaking legs. Blue eyes searched for any sign of discomfort, but Daryl simply nodded and pulled away. Rick waited until he heard the other man on the stairs and then stood himself. His hands immediately flew to undo his belt, button, and zipper before he pulled his own throbbing, dripping erection free. It had been so difficult to not simply push Daryl over the table and fuck him senseless. The only reason Rick called for a change of scenery was the thrill he knew his partner got from being made to wait until _Rick_  was ready, until _Rick_ said so. That alone was worth putting off their impending orgasms, just to make it all the more pleasurable for Daryl.

 

When Rick finally made his way upstairs, his steps much heavier than Daryl's own purposefully quiet ones, he was greeted with a wonderful sight. Just as Rick had ordered, Daryl had climbed onto the bed, just at the end of the bed, and knelt. His ass was up in the air, while Daryl's shoulders and head rested down on a pillow. The bottle of lubricant (and thank god they had found some again) was lying just next to the man. If Rick hadn't given him such specific orders, Daryl probably would have prepped himself.

 

Daryl remained still even as he heard Rick step up behind him. His buttocks were still bright red, right down to the tops of his thighs. Rick leaned down to grab the lubricant and popped the top, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. One slick finger soon ran down the exposed crack, ghosting over his anus before traveling further and then doubling back again. Finally, he pushed two fingers in, making quick, but careful, work of stretching his partner. Daryl didn't even bother trying to hold back his moans anymore as he was worked open. By the time Rick had finished and was slicking up his cock, Daryl's fingers were tightly gripping the sheets and he was begging for Rick to hurry up. 

 

Rick smacked Daryl once more, much more playful than he had been mere minutes ago, and that only earned him a noise that could only be described as a snarl. He chuckled softly, petting the abused flesh in apology. He spread Daryl's cheeks a bit more with both hands holding firmly and lined himself up. As he finally pushed in past the slight resistance, Daryl let out a shaky breath, his white-knuckle grip on the sheets loosening to flex as he adjusted again to the penetration. The angle was a bit different than he was used to, what with Rick completely standing on the floor, but it was a good sort of different. He breathed through his nose, sharp with arousal as he waited for the other man to set a rhythm. Once Rick was pressed in all the way, he pulled out a little, then snapped his hips forward, skin slapping skin as he repeated the motion. That set the pace for them, quick and dirty and altogether perfect for them in the moment.

 

Rick held onto Daryl's hips to keep him angled however Rick wanted him, and he intermittently pulled and pushed the hunter to meet his thrusts. Daryl reached down to grab his almost painful erection, not quite able to keep with the rhythm as he was fucked hard, his body jerking backwards and forwards at Rick's will, but it did the trick all the same. The arousal from being over Rick's knee not ten minutes beforehand hadn't dissipated in the slightest, which meant he was already embarrassingly close to finishing. He squeezed around Rick as he continued pounding into him. Rick groaned, the sound coming from deep in the back of his throat, and his thrusts momentarily faltered.

 

"Fuck, Daryl, you're perfect," he said breathlessly, snapping his hips forward a dozen or more times until he felt Daryl go taut, then spasm slightly as he came. While he was still on the high of his orgasm, Rick came as well, deep inside the hunter as he rolled his hips and rode it out. 

 

Once he had his head on straight again, he pulled himself away and flopped down next to Daryl, who collapsed against the mattress and partially buried his face in the pillow. Rick stared at the ceiling for a few moments, a stupid grin playing at his lips, before he turned to look at Daryl. The other man was watching him through his ever-messy bangs, studying his every move.

 

"What?" Rick asked as he reached a hand out to push the hair out of Daryl's eyes. 

 

He shrugged. "I was just thinkin'."

 

"'Bout what, darlin'?" The leader rolled onto his side, fingers still carding through Daryl's hair.

 

"Ya need to punish me more often," he said quietly.

 

Rick's grin grew wider. He moved forward to kiss the back of Daryl's hand. "Whatever you want, darlin'."

 

That's how it had always been, after all.


End file.
